


Five Times John Proposed And One Time Sherlock Heard Him

by rightonmybins



Series: The Real Househusbands of Baker Street [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Domestic Life at 221B Baker Street, Fluff and Humor, John is Romantic, John thinks he's in a West End musical, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Romance, Sherlock is clueless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-10 19:31:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13508286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rightonmybins/pseuds/rightonmybins
Summary: John proposes marriage in his own special ways. He’s much more romantic but far less self-assured than Sherlock. And of course Sherlock is his usual obtuse self when it comes to John and love.Fluff, amorous intentions, a little angst, and a lot of singing.





	Five Times John Proposed And One Time Sherlock Heard Him

I.  
John reached into the inner pocket of the magnificent Belstaff coat hanging carelessly on the back of the bedroom door. Quickly he drew out Sherlock's little black Moleskine notebook, listened to make sure the shower was still running (Sherlock was always good for at least 15 minutes in the shower), and began to write on the very last page.

Dearest Sherlock:  
I don’t know when you will find this message - but I want to tell you how much I love you and how much I want us to be together always. Which I suppose is my roundabout way of asking you to marry me. You probably would not want me to actually propose on bended knee, and I know you would despise any kind of cheesy engagement scenario, and I’m crap at all that anyway, so how about it? Let’s get married. It’ll be the dog’s bollocks, I promise.  
With much love – John 

There. Sherlock was bound to find this modest scribbled memo eventually - sooner rather than later, John hoped. He wished he could be there when that happened, but on the other hand there was no telling how Sherlock would react, so perhaps just leave this little lovebomb ticking away and hope for the best.

A week passed. Sherlock said nothing.  
Two weeks passed. Sherlock said nothing.  
John was in despair: had he not found the note? If he’d found it, what was he waiting for?  
Worse yet, if he had found it and the answer was No…  
John was certain it was the dog’s bollocks comment that scunnered him.

At last John could endure the emotional torment no longer, and asked Sherlock for the loan of his notebook.  
“In my coat,” Sherlock said.  
The last page of the notebook was missing.  
Now John was nearly beside himself with anxiety.  
He blurted out: “Sherlock, you’re missing a page here, did you know?”

“Oh. Yes, I tore one out and used it as a bookmark. Although now I can’t find that book I put it in. Annoying. No matter, there are still plenty of pages left.”

 

II.  
The pink bakery box contains two decadent little cupcakes iced with swirls of vanilla, in ruffled paper cups. One is studded with pink sprinkles. The other is festooned with delicately elaborate chocolate script that says: “Marry Me”.

 

Sherlock shuddered. John had a serious weakness for sweets, and he was hooked on the cupcakes from that posh bakery around the corner. At least once a week he brought home a pink cardboard box of those detestable confections. He was nearly as bad as Mycroft.

“A special treat for tea, Sherlock,” John said.  
“So I see. Again.”  
“Would you prefer something else, Mr. Planet Organic? Kale chips? A rice cake?”  
“Those would be healthier choices.”  
“Says the man who exists on Mrs. Hudson’s mince pies and thinks HP sauce is a vegetable.”  
“John, I think I hear someone at the front door.”  
“I didn't hear the bell.”  
“Bell’s knackered. Better go down and see, don’t want to miss a client.”

The moment John disappeared, Sherlock reached into the box, snatched a cupcake, and hurled it out of the open kitchen window. He heard it hit the bins below with a satisfying *splat*.

“There was no one at the door.”  
“Sorry, my mistake. Kettle’s just boiled.”  
“Sherlock…..there is only one cupcake in this box.”  
“I ate one. Problem?”  
“But you ate the wrong cupcake!”  
“Wrong? How could a cupcake be ‘wrong’?”  
“That was MY cupcake. You’re meant to eat this one. It’s….special. It’s just for you.”  
“Why, is it poisoned or something?”  
“That’s not funny.”  
“John, cupcakes are wholly irrelevant to me but I ate it to please you, and since I am marginally fonder of pink sprinkles than I am of chocolate icing I merely chose the one I preferred. Stop whinging, it’s not as if I ate BOTH of them.”  
“Sherlock, there’s something written on this one.”  
“Expiration date? Saturated fat content?”  
“Oh, never mind.”

 

III.  
SHERLOCK PLEASE MARRY ME.  
(delete)  
I LOVE YOU SHERLOCK, WILL YOU MARRY ME?  
(delete)  
SHERLOCK I WANT YOU TO BE MY HUSBAND.  
(delete)  
LET’S RUN OFF TO CORNWALL AND GET MARRIED.  
(delete)  
YOU ARE MY ONLY LOVE, I WANT TO MARRY YOU ASAP.  
(send text/Y)  
“SHIT!!!”

I AM VERY FLATTERED DEAR BUT I THOUGHT YOU WERE IN LOVE WITH SHERLOCK??

I’M SORRY MRS. HUDSON I’M SO SORRY  
(send text/Y)

 

IV.  
“Just look at you, you idiot. Lying there flat on your back covered in bandages, zonked on painkillers, because you would NOT listen. Oh no, the great Sherlock Holmes always works alone! Why the hell would you listen to ME, I’m only a soldier with years of training. By all means, just go barging right through, no worries, I’ll be standing back here with our only firearm…

“Sherlock, you are the most insufferable, supercilious, intransigent human ever born. You are an intellectual snob. You are complete bollocks when it comes to emotions, and your capacity for incivility is unsurpassed. You are a knob, a bell-end and a wanker supreme. Not to mention, you are the most stubborn fucking git on seven continents. 

“But even so… here I am sitting by your hospital bed holding your hand and pretending I’m just taking your pulse. Because this is a rare opportunity to tell you, without any interruption, how completely I love you. I have never regretted one moment of our lives together. And if anything should ever happen to you, my own life would be worth less than nothing.

“I want to marry you, Sherlock. And though I’m not certain you can hear me, I am planting this subliminal thought in that mighty brain of yours. One of these days I’ll be bold enough to propose marriage while you are fully conscious. And if you are smarter than you were this afternoon, you’ll say yes.

“Goodnight, love. I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

V.  
When John Watson was in a good mood he liked to sing. He moved around the flat singing in his light baritone while making tea in the kitchen, tidying up the bedroom, classifying Sherlock's vast collection of books. Most of the time he didn't even realize he was doing it aloud, and most of the time Sherlock simply smiled with amusement.  
But today was not that day. John was in fine voice and that voice was shredding Sherlock's last nerve. 

“ ‘Marry me a little, Love me just enough.  
Cry but not too often, Play but not too rough…. ‘ “ John sang lustily as he came up the stairs.

“John, please. You’re disrupting my blogging process.” 

“ ‘Marry me a little, Do it with a will.  
Make a few demands I'm able to fulfill…. ‘ “ John continued as he took off his jacket.

“John, could you not. I’m quite serious.”

John strode across the sitting room, gesturing expansively:  
“ ‘You can be my best friend, I can be your right arm.  
We'll go through a fight or two -- No harm, no harm….’ “

“Oh for fu…..” Sherlock groaned. 

“ ‘We'll look not too deep, We'll go not too far.  
We won't have to give up a thing, We'll stay who we are.  
Right? Okay, then.  
I'm ready!  
I’M READY NOW….!’ “  
John’s explosive projection caused the pigeons on the windowsill to scatter.

“John, you are disturbing the entire street with this vocal recital. Mrs. Hudson will be pounding on the ceiling with her broom again.”

“She was the one who invited me to the theatre, she adores musicals. This one’s her favorite.  
‘ Marry me a little, Love me just enough.  
Warm and sweet and easy, Just the simple stuff…. ‘ ” John warbled.

Sherlock rose from his laptop and removed the headphones from the skull on the wall, ostentatiously placing them over his ears. 

John waltzed around the room stacking papers and books.  
“ ‘Marry me a little, Body, heart, and soul.  
Passionate as hell, but always in control.  
Want me first and foremost, Keep me company.  
That's the way it ought to be…  
I'm ready!  
I'm ready now!’ “ he sang lustily at the back of Sherlock's head. 

Sherlock began humming loudly but failed to drown out John’s performance. John leaned over Sherlock's shoulder and reached for some stray tea mugs.  
“ ‘Oh, how gently we'll talk, Oh, how softly we'll tread.  
All the stings, The ugly things  
We'll keep unsaid… ‘ “ 

“SPEAKING OF ‘UNSAID’!” Sherlock shouted. He threw off the headphones and flopped down on the sofa with a cushion over his head. John ignored the outburst and lifted Sherlock's feet to remove some old newspapers.

“ ‘We'll build a cocoon of love and respect.  
You promise whatever you like, I'll never collect.  
Right?  
Okay, then.  
I'm ready.  
I’M READY NOW…..!’ “  
John put every last thing he had into the final line of the song, flinging his arms wide and throwing the newspapers in the air. Then he collapsed with a huge sigh on the end of the sofa near Sherlock's feet. 

Sherlock slowly lifted the cushion and regarded John with terrible patience.  
“All finished now? No encore, one would hope?”  
“All finished, ta,” said John cheekily.  
“Then could you possibly explain what all that was about?”  
John leaned back and tangled his legs with Sherlock's.  
“As ever, Sherlock, you listen -- but you do not HEAR.”

 

VI.  
Sherlock lay wakeful and preoccupied, his fingers tented and tapping against one another. Faint illumination from the streetlight filtered into the bedroom and an insistent little breath of cold air leaked in through the loose window frame. He stared at the ceiling and turned over and over in his mind the case of the previous day.  
John, on the other hand, had fallen unconscious the moment his head touched the pillow. Constant sleep-deprivation as both a doctor and a soldier had taught him to surrender to blessed slumber at any opportunity, as quickly as possible. 

John stirred, mumbling something about the morgue. Sherlock irritably nudged him with his foot.  
After some restless readjusting John sighed and muttered Sherlock's name. Sherlock exhaled with mild annoyance: John was not the quietest of bedmates, even when asleep.

More muttering. Sherlock said, “John, hush.”  
John merely muttered louder. “Sherlock, “ he said thickly.  
“What, John.”  
“Sherlock, I….tufjhdiohzz…”  
“WHAT, John.”  
“So happy. Happy. Sherlo…frorithjzzz.”  
“Fine. You’re happy. I’d be happy if you’d quiet down and go to sleep.”  
“I don’t …dhsktnzzz.”  
“You really must stop eating Branston pickle before you go to bed, it always makes you so…”  
“…marry me.”  
“What was that?”  
“…eiroribjzzzz…”  
“John, what?”  
“I SAID…..iewrofdjbzzz.”  
“ ‘Marry me’?”  
“Oh yes. Sherl….marryyyyyyyybzzzz...”  
“Marry you.”  
“Sh ….marry you. Me. Sherjrglnczzz…”

“I swear I will never eat Branston pickle before bed again. Tossed and turned all night. Probably talked in my sleep too, sorry about that.”  
“Oh it’s fine, John. I never heard a thing.”  
“Good.”  
“And by the way…yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> The dog’s bollocks: something wonderful, fantastic. (Honest!)  
> Scunnered (Scots): disgusted, repelled  
> Sprinkles: in the UK these are often called “hundreds and thousands” but “sprinkles” is the term used by my beloved Primrose Bakery, and that’s good enough for me.  
> HP sauce: all-purpose bottled brown sauce. The ketchup of the UK.  
> Knob, bell-end, wanker: penis-related insults.  
> Git: a term of insult for a silly, incompetent, stupid, annoying, or childish person.  
> Branston pickle: a tangy sweet and sour vegetable relish
> 
> John’s love song is excerpted from “Marry Me A Little” from the musical “Company”, by the great Stephen Sondheim. All copyrights belong to him; I claim no ownership and no violation is intended.  
> In my head canon this is John and Sherlock's theme song, and it has been beautifully performed by both Raul Esparza, and by John Barrowman (see YouTube).


End file.
